


Should I stay or should I bowl

by SeanCharm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dating, Episode: s05e12 Damnatio Memoriae, M/M, Spying, Teen Wolf season 5, bowling, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeanCharm/pseuds/SeanCharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spy in the name of love?</p><p>Well, maybe not love, it's a crush. </p><p>They haven't even kissed, goddammit!</p><p>Dead chimeras are popping up pretty lively. So lively in fact that they go around asking people on dates! I mean seriously, what gives?</p><p>Teen Wolf s05x12, Mason has a date on Saturday... Fraternizing with the enemy much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I want you to take me out

**Author's Note:**

> Baby steps into fanfic! Unbeta'd. But god, do I needed to see something somewhere about last nights episode!
> 
> Cinnamon rolls, we don't deserve your goodness. Please, show, be good to these kids!

“So the thing is, date’s tomorrow and we don’t have a plan.”

“I thought the date—“

“The date _is not the plan_!”

It was probably the fourth time around that Liam and Mason were having this same conversation. They were not alone this time. The Inner Circle TM was there. That was _good_. Well, would be better if half of its members weren’t absent, or if they actually weren’t discussing how to tactically weaponize Mason’s love life. Yeah, that would’ve been great.

So yes. Eventually Liam had had to eat up his guilt and face up to Scott, which had gone as well as Mason had hoped. No actual screaming fits, no violent slashing of claws. It’d been rather… cuddly, to be honest. A cuddly pack reunion. That’s what you got when your alpha was made of marshmellows and pure undiluted goodness.

  
Surprisingly, even Stiles, who Mason had gotten used to accepting as an outspoken, no-holds-barred kinda ass towards Liam, didn’t seem to have much to say about the library, er, incident. Bodily assault. Supermoon werewolf accidental manslaughter? No. Wait. That was surely redundant.

_Anyways_.

There they were. Scott, Stiles, Liam and himself, sitting all huddled up in one of the hospital’s many waiting rooms (Beacon Hills hospitals were _huge_. Mason was sharply aware of the reason for this now), since Sheriff Stilinski’s visiting hours were scarce and Stiles refused to leave the premises unless he absolutely had to.

Theo crazy-pants Raeken had decided that playing teen necromancer was rather neat and the gang had to deal with all the craziness _that_ entailed along with their own darn problems, Dread Docs, and monster-of-the-week shenanigans.

To Mason the whole thing could have been insanely fascinating (resurrection was real! wtf?!) were it not for the fact it was also mind-crushingly terrifying. Plus, people they knew were apparently zombies now.

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

He didn’t know how to talk about it with Liam either. It had really taken a weight off his buddy’s shoulder, knowing that Hayden was actually alive. Liam had had to deal with a lot of crap in his life, he deserved every bit of happiness that came his way. But. But was there any possible outcome in which all this business wouldn’t end up in tears?

Mason didn’t know. But he was going to find out.

That included figuring out what the hell was up with Corey.

Now _that_ he didn’t know what to do with.

“Please,” he begged dragging his hands down his face in misery. “Someone tell me what am I supposed to do with Corey tomorrow?”

He needed this to be over soon.

Scott placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed softly.

“Let’s think about it together,” he said. “We can figure something out”.

How a powerful red-eye shapeshifting beast was the cutest, sweetest dude in their High School was beyond him. He would sometimes wonder about that. Particularly at night, sitting at the messy desk in his room, among scattered half-finished homework papers and books such as a 17th Century Spanish Paranormal Almanac, or the actual real-life version of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (you thought no one would find out, right J.K.? Well, busted!). Scott being one of the most heartfelt decent people he knew was sort of at odds with all the folkloric stereotypes and whatnot. But then again, like Lydia had said once, almost intoning it as if she was reciting a motto, “not all monsters do monstrous things”.

Whatever was going on with Hayden, Corey, Tracy, and the others didn’t mean they were doomed forever. There was an out. Mason knew it.

“Soooo, where’s this date gonna be?” asked Stiles fingers drumming on his lips.

“Bowling alley”, answered Liam and Mason in unison. They had already agreed it should be in a public place, with camera surveillance. Mason had texted Corey who, thankfully, agreed enthusiastically.

Scott’s hand gripped Mason’s shoulder a bit more strongly for a moment.

Stiles nodded.

“Sounds good. Scotty and I can hang around the pool tables to check on you guys. Also, lookout.”

“And what about me?” snapped Liam with his indignant frowny face.

“I think it’s better if you keep guard outside”, replied Scott, trying to be soothing.

Normally that shouldn’t have worked on Liam, but Mason was relieved to see him clench his jaw and nod in agreement. Who would have thought werewolfitude would do his Intermittent Explosive Disorder any good? Mason was so proud. Correction. Would be super proud. If he wasn’t panicking right then and there.

“But what do I do though?” he huffed a bit breathlessly. “What am I actually supposed to say? ‘Hey yo, so like, are you guys all evil now? Like, what’s the deal with that? Wanna make out and then tell me?’”

The three other guys looked up as they squinted, picturing it.

Oh man. His first date in ages and it was all going to go to _shit_.

 

 ***

 

He spent almost half an hour trying on all his clean shirt-and-jeans combinations until he decided to give up at the risk of losing his sanity. Blue button-up shirt, black skinny jeans.

He took a last look at the mirror.

His skinny arms saw too fragile to him. All of him was skinny. Crap. What if Theo decided to break him in two like a twig? He was no fighter! He was an avid reader at best!

He sighed. He turned around to face his bed.

Maybe the red shirt’d be better… A bit more threatening. Could help in case of self-defense.

His cell rang. It was Liam.

"We're already outside", he informed him. He sounded nervous, but Mason thought he was trying not to show it.

Liam's voice had the same tone he had identified when he was talking about Hayden. A bit mopey. A bit too strained.

"Cool," was all Mason could muster

"What you doing now?" asked Liam.

"Mmmh, choosing what to wear?"

He heard spluttering.

"Dude! What does it matter? It's not a _date_ date!" he said, unnecessarily distressed.

"It so is! And I don't want to see you hanging around in the back shaking your head at my unending clumsiness, alright? I got enough on my mind already."

He was about to call Liam out on how hypocritical it was for him to pine on Hayden while denying Mason the chance to actually go out with Corey. But then again, it was not the same thing, was it?

Liam and Hayden had already kissed. They had been kind of an item before the Dread Doctor's shitstorm. He and Corey on the other side...

There had been an almost moment. There had been looks, but-- Mason had made out with Corey's boyfriend right before he went berserk and _died._ He still didn't know what to make of that. Hadn't seem fair to make any sort of move on Corey after that.

Then again, they had thought Corey was gone too. And he had come back. He had been given a second chance to think things through. Still, something was off. You didn't die and come back unscathed. What if. What if they had come back to life but still needed to be saved?

He needed to ask Liam, did he think they could help Theo's pack? Rescue them from him? Or were they really acting out of free will?

He was about to.

But then the doorbell rang.

_Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_.

He wasn’t ready yet. Stop, stop, stop.

"Bro, bro. He's here! Gotta go," he hung up on him, put the cell in his pocket. Started looking for his wallet.

The front door opened. He heard his father yell from downstairs.

“Mason! Mason, your friend’s here!”

He swore he could hear the glee radiating from his dad from where he was. His mom was always polite and respectful of Mason’s privacy, but his dad, oh his dad. He reveled in making Mason feel uncomfortable and stuck his nose in Mason’s life at every opportunity. His parents had been childhood sweethearts, so he guessed his father took the chance to live vicariously through him. That or he enjoyed being a malevolent torturer. It was probably the latter. At family reunions he always forced everybody to play a little backgammon tournament, after all. Even the little cousins. That was a blatant sign of a twisted, cruel mind.

“Should I tell this young man to wait another hour till you finish choosing what to wear, son? I swear, Corey (it is Corey, correct?), I don’t remember him being this nervous since—“

“I’m coming, dad! God!”

He was willing to throw himself down to the ground floor and bypass the stairs completely if necessary. He could not put up with this on top of everything. No former boyfriend stories. He’d sooner free fall against the floor.

He had a mission, though, so he could not be martyred this soon. He did jump the stairs three steeps at a time, enough to leave him out of breath the moment he set eyes on Corey standing in the doorway.

He had his best lopsided smile to date, hands in his pockets, and Mason could almost swear a bit of a blush too.

That had to be a good sign, right? Evil undead minions didn’t blush, surely. He was sure he must have read that in a book somewhere.

Mason’s dad opened his mouth to speak and try to obliterate his son’s self-esteem, probably, but he wasn’t having it. Not today.

“No, dad, no,” he said as he rushed out into the front yard, grabbing Corey by the arm. “We’re gonna be late, you have that dinner with your co-workers, there’s no time for chit-chat. I’ll be back before curfew. Have fun. We’ll have fun, k, bye, see ya”.

And just like that he closed the door behind him.

Safe, he was safe. Who cared about big scary monsters, the biggest hurdle had been overcome.

He was suddenly very aware his right hand was clutching Corey’s arm. He was wearing a T-shirt and Mason’s fingers were touching the soft underside of his arm. Skin against skin. He panicked and let him go.

“So I’m guessing you don’t want me to meet your parents just yet”, said Corey, still grinning.

“Ha ha ha, yeah—no, it’s. Heh,” brilliant ,Mason. Overwhlem him with your finesse, he thought. “You know how embarrassing parents are. Better not to have them around as a teenager.”

Corey’s grin faltered a little.

“I think it’s nice, actually,” he said, giving Mason’s front door a quick glimpse back. “Must feel good having parents that care enough about you to tease you.”

_Dammit_. Corey had mentioned something about his parents. It hadn’t been what Mason would call good.

“It—It is.” Man. When was he going to stop stuttering? “It’s just that sometimes it can be a bit much. You know, I’d say at our age we need to be left alone a little bit, yeah? Everyone is a bit embarrassing when they’re teenagers,” he pushed it a bit more. “But we need to make some mistakes to learn who we really are. And people who won’t judge us for it.”

Mason assumed he was being a bit too Captain Obvious, but hell, he had to build up to the Theo bit eventually. Might as well start now.

He couldn’t tell what Corey was thinking. He looked him in the eyes searching for, for something, but staring back he just saw the same dreamy-eyed guy who he had helped lift dozens of kilos at the school gym, who he had almost kissed that one time at Sinema after he had tried to drink his way out the grief from losing his boyfriend.

He had been so low back then, and he looked so calm and cheerful now. Something… something wasn’t right.

_I’m gonna help you_ , Mason promised, as much to Corey as to himself. _I’m not failing you again._

“We do need that,” Corey answered, apparently oblivious to the accusatory undercurrent. If anything he seemed to smile a little more. “I hope you can avoid making any mistakes while bowling, though. You’ll need to keep up if you want to beat me at it.”

Mason laughed.

“I’m a great bowler!”

Beacon Hill’s suburbs were, evidently, pretty quiet. Night was falling and there was barely anyone on the streets. That’s why half a block away Liam heard Mason with complete clarity. He scoffed inside Stiles’ new car. He, Stiles and Scott were on stakeout, making sure no one was showing up to wreak havoc on Mason’s attempt at supernatural espionage. The truth was Mason was the lamest of bowlers.

Liam hoped the worst thing they had to care about that night was lack of strikes and not a full-blown chimera attack.

“Good luck, buddy”, he whispered as he saw Mason and Corey walking away.

Stiles started the car and began following them at a distance.


	2. Let me be your Brooklyn Smasher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actual date takes place.  
> Goofiness. Fluff. Angst.  
> No one knows how to spy properly.

“So the thing is, I’m not actually very, ah, good at this.”

“I thought you said—“

“Yeah, _I might have downplayed my complete inability a little._ ”

It was the fourth time Mason’s ball had pathetically decided to roll away into the gutter. He hadn’t disrespected it or anything. He didn’t understand its need to flee from him so brashly. The pins looked on triumphantly from their fortress. Knowing there was safety to be had in incompetence.

Mason scowled. Ten minutes into playing their first line at the bowling alley and he was ready to give up on this defective knock-off of a mission and go home.

Corey, on the other hand, seemed to thankfully find it funny.

“No worries, I can teach you,” he offered. “Or we can go over to the pool tables. I’m not that good at that, but I don’t mind.”

For a moment, Mason panicked and darted his eyes to the pool area, where the gang was meant to be watching over him. He didn’t see them and immediately redirected his focus to Corey’s face. _Like a ninja, dude!_ He scolded himself.

He smiled and rubbed his hands together, “it’d be cooler if _you_ taught me how to work your magic.”

Corey laughed in that half-embarrassed, half-playful way he had. It did a bubbly thing on Mason’s stomach.

“We could do that,” nodded Corey.

_Awesome._

“Awesome.”

Let Liam get embarrassed by that masterpiece. Sinema had indeed being honing his skills. His days needing a wingman were finally over. Ha!

“Just let me get this one first,” asked Corey as he went to grab one of the balls. One of the heavy ones.

Were they not surrounded by twelve-year-olds, someone would’ve probably noticed the incongruence of slim-looking Corey and the 16 pounds of red plastic, which personally Mason had never seen anyone use before.

Intently and slowly, Corey moved closer to the lane, and Mason tried to come up with an animal that he could compare him with. Nothing fit with the idea he had of him, really. Corey would smile shyly at you in the library and lean over for a kiss at a shrill club. He would step up and ask you out on a date, but he’d run and hide, and literally disappear before your eyes if he needed to.

He was many things, a lot of them conflicting.

At heart, Mason knew he was a _good guy_. No matter how much Stiles insisted on his untrustworthiness. He would stand up for this sweet guy who tried to help them out of this absolute mess with the Doctors barely two days after being let in on the secret.

But there was Theo. Corey and Theo. Two discordances that insisted on getting tangled up with each other. Pieces that something bigger than themselves had thrown in together forming a polymorph. Like Frankenstein’s monster.

Like a chimera.

The ball Corey threw hit the 10 pin formation head on and scattered them all violently. The noise shook Mason out of his gloomy headspace.

“Ok, now is your turn,” Corey pointed out, with a tip of his head towards the alley and yeah, sure, why not, a completely unnecessary added smile, because it was not as if Mason wasn’t having enough trouble already trying to keep a cold head. He had to endure an unending barrage of winning smiles from this cute bastard too.

Mason stood up from the truly uncomfortable, tacky plastic seats of Beacon Hill’s second-worst arcade and bowling zone, and walked over to the bowling ball return.

“First thing, I think,” said Corey, “pick the right weight. The ball you’re using’s too heavy.”

“Are you implying I’m weaksauce, man?” Mason squinted darkly.

“No! No!” He laughed. “No way. See, before, I couldn’t use a ball heavier than 11. My thumb would smart like crazy after just one line. It’s more about your technique.”

He made a swinging motion with his right arm, trying to showcase his point.

Mason shrugged cluelessly. In his head.

“Let me show you?” Corey suggested, clearly reading his mind.

“Yeah, sure.”

Mason hadn’t really been prepared for what happened after.

Corey ambled behind him and told him, mouth really close to Mason’s right ear, “Pick the 11.”

He could’ve put a bit of a fight, sure, but he didn’t feel particularly like it just then.

He did as Corey told him and slipped his fingers into the lightest ball on the return. It was a horrible pink and purple mess, but it was easier to lift for sure.

Then Corey put his hand on top of Mason’s, his chin resting on Mason’s right shoulder.

“Alright, now get closer to the—yeah, careful, don’t to step on the line. Now bend a little bit forward…”

This was ridiculous. This wasn’t really happening. Reading his favorite books as a kid he always imagined adventures where he would strike down bad guys with big, flaming swords, where he would cast epic spells on mountaintops, and at the end of which he got the guy and lived happily ever after.

This was nothing like his escapist fantasies. He was standing in a freaking loud and cheap _bowling alley_ , acting as a surrogate teenage spy. Yet. Yet it held the same feelings they did. His heart would not slow down one freaking beat. He felt elated. Buzzing.

There were monsters and hot guys everywhere he turned to in his life right now. Everything he did felt dangerous now. Exciting. He was pretty sure Corey made up a big part of that feeling.

If someone had given him a flaming sword right that moment, he swore he could’ve slayed a Hungarian Horntail.

“Let go of the ball now,” said Corey as he guided his hand.

A firm but gentle push sent the ball sliding up the alley till it knocked down all the pins.

“Hell yeah!” Shouted Mason triumphant, both fists to the air.

Laughing behind him stood Corey.

“Hey, do not mock me,” ordered Mason. “You have super strength and senses now, dude”

“You still have to know what you’re doing, tho”, he replied, arching his eyebrows.

“How did you get this good anyway?” Mason wanted to know.

“My parents haven’t really wanted me around the house much after school” he shrugged. “They always found some activity or other to send me off to. This was the one I complained less about, so, yeah,” he said, and didn’t seem to mind. But Mason wondered whether that might possibly be more camouflage on his part.

“That kinda sucks, Corey,” he pushed.

He waved it off.

“I like it now. I’m also in a league! I’m with the Lucky Strikebowlers.”

Three. Seconds. Silence.

“Is—Is that a really bad Star Wars pun?” Mason had to ask, begrudgingly.

Corey actually _blushed_.

“We’re all big fans,” he mumbled. “Lucas’ cousins picked it one day as a joke and it sorta stuck.”

There was an opening there. Lucas. But Mason wasn’t enough of a dick to exploit it. Was he?

“So when’s your next game?” No. He definitely wasn’t a dick. “Maybe I can come watch?”

Apparently, though, that was the wrong thing to say too.

Corey scratched his head and wouldn’t lift his gaze from the floor.

“I haven’t been to the league so far,” he confessed. “They’re having to participate without me.”

“Because of Theo?

There he was. He got there in the end, regardless of how shitty it made him feel.

He could now see behind Corey, way back from where people were playing pool, Liam, Scott and Stiles craning their necks to watch them from afar.

Subtle.

“Corey, you know you can tell me what’s going on, right? If I can, I wanna help.”

Corey snapped his head back up. Harsh lines around his mouth and frowning.

“You mean like Scott did?” And he had a point. “Are you gonna claw me in the spine too?”

Crap. How was Corey going to understand that? Bodily harm and invasion of mental privacy were pretty difficult things to defend.

There had to be a way to salvage this. Maybe if he kept talking he’d think of something.

“That was—that was a bad decision in a really difficult situation,” Mason tried to justify weakly. “You know Scott was trying to save people’s lives.”

So many had already died, he knew Scott had had to do _something_.

“Yeah, well, that does not excuse it!” Corey said voice strained. “And that’s not the worst part anyway. I _died_ , Mason. I was literally murdered.”

Mason kept quiet. There were children shouting, playing and running around them, but their screams filling his silence felt eerie to him now, not playful.

“He brought me back,” Corey said, a little breathless. “I’m here on this date with you because Theo brought me back. There are so many good things that I can do now, things I can make right.”

It was then that Mason knew he had lost him. If Theo had shown him a chance to start anew, had given him the life Scott and his pack hadn’t been able to protect, there was nothing he could do or say to change where he stood. What did they even have left to offer Corey? The pack was in shambles. What was left was a bunch of teens barely figuring out how to stay alive, let alone save anyone’s skin.

“I’m not letting stupid things in the past stop me from what I want,” finished Corey, determined.

Mason nodded slowly and bit his lip. He could understand what Corey felt, even if the choice was taking him in a very wrong and dark direction.

That’s when he felt Corey’s hand hold his.

“Mason,” he said almost whispering. “He’s gonna kill me. He’s going to take everything away from me if I don’t follow him.”

Corey’s body was all up Mason’s personal space. He kept holding Mason’s hand with a tight grip. Their noses were almost touching and it was driving Mason _insane_.

“Corey, I know, but I—” he swallowed hard. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this if it means I’m with the guy who runs around with this murdering psycho.”

Corey looked him straight in the eye.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m choosing you guys. That’s why I’m choosing you.”

There was an audience. Mason knew that. But he couldn’t care less.

He breached the insurmountable distance of three centimeters that separated their mouths and kissed Corey full on.

It was everything he had fantasized and more.

Corey’s arms were way stronger than they looked and held him steadfast as his hands glided down to the small of his back, bringing him even closer.

Mason slid a hand through Corey’s short but incredible hair. He wouldn’t mind leaving it there for as long as he’d let him.

Their mouths were, well. He wasn’t sure how to describe what their lips were doing.

But it was _intense_.

They broke the kiss.

Mason supposed this meant they had just signed a peace treaty of some sorts. He had read somewhere that in the Middle Ages some people signed with a kiss.

Sure, it was probably on account of illiteracy, but whatever.

He tried to say something and only a stuttering gasp came out. So he tried again.

“This ‘choosing us’ means we’ll be working together, right?” He managed like a champ. “You and our pack. Not that you wanna smooch the rest of the gang, I take it.”

This wasn’t the time to be silly, but Mason was a bit overwhelmed. He needed the respite.

In response, Corey turned his head to look back at where Liam and the others were. Mason saw three heads disappear out of sight behind a pool table.

“Nah, I think I’m good,” he smiled crookedly. “There’s only so much smooching that can go around in my life.”

Mason stared at him intently. Seriousness creeping in again.

“We’re gonna need a plan, then,” he told Corey. “I need to know that you’re safe.”

Corey agreed, and his face told Mason he felt touched as well.

“I think I’ll stay with the chimera’s for now,” he informed Mason. “I can let you know what I find out. Maybe that can help your pack not get caught off guard so often.”

It sounded like a fairly reasonable plan. Reasonably dangerous too.

“You can come to us the moment it feels off,” he said. “We’ll protect you.”

Corey raised an eyebrow in doubt.

Yeah, he wasn’t sure he could follow up on that promise either.

“Stiles gave me a bat the other day,” Mason tried to reassure him. “He told me they work wonders in the midst of supernatural pickles. It’s a Cold Steel Brooklyn Smasher. Meant to be unbreakable. He said never to use wooden ones. We’re supposed to be practicing wrecking some cars next week. At a junkyard,” he added. “We’re not hooligans.”

Corey laughed and put his arms around Mason’s shoulders.

“I feel safer already,” he said. And it really didn’t sound like he was mocking him.

 

***

 

Half an hour later they were walking into the relatively chilly night air, shoulder to shoulder.

Mason’s right arm hurt. They had had to finish their lines after their talk. Corey had insisted on never leaving the lines you paid for un-played. He also made Mason swore never to do it, whether he went bowling with him or not.

It felt as if they had spent ages inside there, but I was only barely past 10.30 according to Mason’s cell.

The night was young, and so were they.

They were just two guys, afraid. Making mistakes. Afraid of making even more mistakes.

But what happened that night didn’t feel like one.

It felt like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reads and kudos guys! Really made my week.
> 
> Hoping we get to see more of these guys in the show. Love them too much not to.
> 
> Thinking on writing something about Stiles' and Mason's little field trip to the junkyard, which honestly sounds like so much fun.
> 
> Bonding in the bat-family!


End file.
